


next time, enemy mine

by shanlyrical



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Enemies With Benefits, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Xeno, mild choking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:53:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24183943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanlyrical/pseuds/shanlyrical
Summary: “Why, General Grievous. Fancy meeting you here,” Obi-Wan said, his smile pleasantly civilized. The overall effect of the greeting was somewhat lessened, however, by the tightening of Grievous’s hand around his neck, so that the words came out of Obi-Wan’s mouth more like a rasping croak than his usual dulcet tones.
Relationships: Grievous | Qymaen jai Sheelal/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 91
Collections: Villain of My Own Story Exchange 2020





	next time, enemy mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nununununu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/gifts).



A dead end. It looked like scouting this crevasse for a shortcut around the Separatist forces wasn’t going to pay off after all. Obi-Wan Kenobi, General and Jedi Master, heaved a sigh and made to turn back around the way he’d come—

“Kenobi.”

Too late. General Grievous dropped from a rocky overhang approximately thirty meters above and landed less ten centimeters in front of Obi-Wan. His vainglorious cloak unfurled behind him like a set of wings as, faster than a striking serpent, he lunged forward, a clawed metal hand reading out to grab Obi-Wan by the throat.

“Why, General Grievous. Fancy meeting you here,” Obi-Wan said, his smile pleasantly civilized. The overall effect of the greeting was somewhat lessened, however, by the tightening of Grievous’s hand around his neck, so that the words came out of Obi-Wan’s mouth more like a rasping croak than his usual dulcet tones.

Grievous’s only response was to grasp Obi-Wan’s throat even tighter and pin him to a vertical cliff face. His booted feet were lifted clear off the ground. “Oh come now – is this aggression really necessary? I didn’t” – here Obi-Wan paused to cough and attempt clear his throat, to little avail – “even draw a weapon against you.”

And indeed he hadn’t…and Grievous knew exactly what _that_ meant. The only sound to be heard, apart from distant exchanges of blaster-canon fire, was a heavy, pneumatic hiss as Grievous’s groin-plates opened.

The penis of a Kaleesh male was prehensile, muscular, and naturally lubricated. It was also powerful. Grievous growled as it punched straight through the seam of Obi-Wan’s trousers, slid unerringly into his hole, and impaled him.

“S-somebody is happy to s-see me, clearly,” Obi-Wan stuttered around Grievous’s continued choke-hold as Grievous began to pound into him, the independent, twisting movement of the penis’s muscular shaft prodding him in all the right places. He was getting hard; Grievous always made him so hard. He reached into his trousers with one hand to work himself. His other hand he used to brace himself on Grievous’s shoulder as he wrapped his legs around Grievous’s hips. He couldn’t control the rhythm – all he could do was yield – and it was fast and rough and alien and _utterly transporting_ —

Obi-Wan moaned and came, his semen striping Grievous’s breastplate. Grievous roared in response and gave one final, violent thrust as he poured himself into Obi-Wan.

Kaleesh orgasms broke in several discrete waves that together lasted nearly a minute in total. Boneless and replete, Obi-Wan rode the waves out, gazing deeply all the while into those intensely yellow, slitted-pupil eyes. And if Grievous’s choke-hold was less a hold on his throat and more a caress against his cheek by this point, he was much, much too polite to point that out—

The engines of a squadron of clone fighters screamed directly overhead, in tight formation, decimating enemy lines. The 212th to the rescue.

Grievous pulled out and away from Obi-Wan so abruptly that he almost didn’t catch himself from falling to the ground. “Next time, Kenobi!” Grievous shouted as he did what he usually did best in such circumstances – run away.

Obi-Wan straightened his clothes and sighed at the tear in his trousers. It was fortunate that Jedi robes were excellent for concealing one’s modesty. He also couldn’t help but wonder what ‘next time’ meant – fighting or fucking? Thus far it’d been about a 50/50 chance of the one or the other, and Grievous was never clear in advance which of the two options it would be or even which of the two men would gain the, ahem, upper hand.

And frankly speaking, Obi-Wan didn’t really mind.


End file.
